Happens when on question:
Do you agree?
get the answer sometimes depends on your life.
A small town in the Baltic States. I'm at the bookstore. It's raining. Waiting for her under the umbrella. She's at the store selected her next new book. It's raining in the town, sprinkling the streets, rooftops and accidentally caught unprepared Wanderers like me.
Finally runs out happy.
Bought by an Austrian author about the sea!
About the sea?
I will come tonight and I'll read it -she said
I?, I will put in the evening? -asked her smiling
And you were there.
Holding her to him, we went to Wade through the narrow cobbled streets, skirting puddles, collecting rain scream on.
Old house, apartment under the roof is our shelter.
When there is a big age difference, its quirks seem like child's play. Maybe they have become to me so dear and touching. She lives in a world that for me is salvation from useless fuss. Our life is a continuation of her naive dreams. Fragile, with a book under her arm -her little joy for the evening. It will be today to live by the sea and I it.
Aren't you cold? -ask her I'm home, carefully wrapping him in a blanket.
Coffee with a bun-bring -lying on the couch she exposing long legs and buried my face in the book.
And how was your sea? I said, putting her tray.
It's blue and endless. Want summer sea. Will you take me?
The old spring a sofa, laid out in a room, it seems a small island among the sea. And on this nameless island, today only two-me and her. The night we're drowning in it, choking and grabbing his shore. We spent the night in the sea with her and it seems to be endless, exciting and calms down only in the morning.
Don't Wake me up today, I'm tired -she said falling asleep.
I will not -I fell asleep.
And day again, then night – we're driving along the coast of the Baltic sea. Rolling on a curve of the serpentine asphalt road. Raining again. She reads about the sea or about something else, deeply seated on the seat, putting his feet on the dashboard. So we are moving from one city to another are looking for business colleagues, offering them their products will be plastic pencils with no graphite. And stopping in every town, she buys a new book in this continuing story. And every time I'm going to ask her -do You agree? And not daring to do so –remain unanswered.
Who needs those plastic pencils, I don't know -just I need it very much.